


How Many Will There Be By Dawn?

by Rovelae



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Gen, Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovelae/pseuds/Rovelae
Summary: How many will there be by dawn?Will there be two or just one?It's the smart contestants that win the killing games. Not the strong ones, who can be felled by persistence and a bit of arsenic. Not the cynics, who always manage to overlook critical clues until they're bleeding out on the floor with a knife in their back.It's the smart ones, those who choose the perfect target, that end up victorious.Unfortunately for Shuichi, someone just got smart.





	How Many Will There Be By Dawn?

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings(?) - canon-typical violence, but probably not enough of it to make you queasy. Hinted Saihara/Ouma, _some_ hints toward Saihara/Momota, but romance isn't really the focus of the piece.  
> Inspired by Empwnleon's lovely post here http://empwnleon.tumblr.com/post/167447044752/im-genuinely-surprised-that-no-culprit-in-v3  
> 

            Shuichi rolled his shoulders as seventy-five push-ups worth of soreness stung his upper arms. Tonight’s training had been as rigorous as ever, and he’d barely managed half of what Kaito had demanded of the three of them. Well, to be fair, Kaito hadn’t actually finished, either; only Maki had gotten through the full routine, and she without breaking a sweat. Kaito had pointed this out to him and insisted that “Today I’m taking it easy on you guys, so you’d better not get used to it!”

            Evidently he and the Ultimate Astronaut had very different definitions of _easy._

            Even so, Shuichi thought as he made his way across the courtyard, he had to admit the effects of other boy’s ruthless training regimen had begun to show. Where he used to struggle to stand after twenty-five sit-ups, he found himself testing his limits, stubbornly forcing himself to work harder each day. He’d almost begun to enjoy the way his muscles shook after their workouts, how his lungs burned with the exertion. It made him forget all the fear and sorrow that otherwise clouded the air of the Ultimate Academy.

            _“Now’s not the time to use your head,”_ Kaito had insisted the first time he’d dragged Shuichi out in the middle of the night. _“Now’s the time to move your body! How else are you gonna defeat your enemy?”_

            He shook his head in amusement at the memory. Maybe there was some logic to it after all.

            A soft light filtering toward him from down a side hall caught his attention. Shuichi paused, a flicker of unease chasing the pleasant thoughts aside. The door to one of the classrooms stood open, standing out ominously against the rest of the vine-tangled hallway. Had someone forgotten to turn the light off?

            Or maybe—was somebody ....

            No, _no._ Monokuma hadn’t presented a new motive since the second trial, so there was no reason to suspect anyone would be up to something.

            Shuichi hesitated for a moment longer before mentally berating his insatiable curiosity, creeping toward the classroom and peering inside.

            Leaning against one of the desks, twirling a length of red rope between his fingers, was Kiyo.

            Shuichi blinked, both in surprise and to let his eyes adjust to the glare of the fluorescent lights. He hadn’t expected … what _had_ he expected, actually? He was about to draw back into the hallway and leave when Kiyo spoke without looking up.

            “Shuichi. Good evening.”

            “Ah—yeah, hey, Kiyo,” Shuichi said, stepping into the light. “Sorry if I interrupted … uh, whatever you’re doing.”

            “Not at all. These cords get so tangled when the Monokubs meddle with them.”

            Something about the way Kiyo had turned to face him seemed nothing short of uncanny. “Why ... are you holding a rope?”

            Kiyo tilted his head to one side. “You look so alarmed, Shuichi,” he said. “Just what are you imagining I’m about to do with it?”

            Shuichi really didn’t think Kiyo wanted to hear his answer to that. He cleared his throat and backed toward the open door. “Well, I’m just going to go back to my room now,” he tried.

            The Ultimate Anthropologist dropped his hands to his sides, a flicker of something like annoyance passing across what was visible of his face. “Oh, relax,” he sighed. “I was merely on my way to my lab to reenact an Incan coming-of-age ceremony. You see, in some parts of ancient South America, the natives believed that....”

            _Here we go again._  Shuichi sighed inwardly, the tension draining slowly from his shoulders as he feigned interest in the lecture Kiyo had just launched into. Of course there hadn’t been anything to worry about. Kiyo was creepy; no one could deny that—and Kaede and Shuichi had agreed even before the killing game began that out of their little group, he was the one to watch out for—but at least now Shuichi could chalk up his sudden unease to residual panic from the class trial just two days ago.

            That was it. He was just tired and on edge.

            “That’s very interesting, Kiyo,” Shuichi cut in once Kiyo paused to take a breath. “Let me know how it goes.”

            “Certainly.” Kiyo idly toyed with one of the decorative chains near the breast pocket of his uniform. “Oh, one more thing, Shuichi.”

            “What is it?”

            “Before I forget, I want to commend you for your efforts to maintain harmony in this school,” Kiyo said, drawing slightly closer. His eyes were soft, lit by a hidden smile. “I admit that when you first took on the role of a leader, I was ... skeptical. However, seeing our classmates band together with you has been truly beautiful indeed.”

            Wow, Kiyo really ... thought that way? Shuichi gave a nervous laugh and brushed a few strands of hair out of his eyes. “Ah, I wouldn’t call myself the leader, exactly....”

            “On the contrary,” the anthropologist said. “You have seen how they rely on you for guidance, yes? And I expect not even you can deny your usefulness during class trials. Had it not been for our Ultimate Detective, all of us would have met our untimely ends long ago.”

            “W-well, there’s also Kaito, and Rantaro, and ... Kokichi knows what he’s doing....” He could feel a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “I’d be completely useless if I didn’t have everyone helping me.”

            “If you are determined to continue dodging compliments, then I shall desist,” Kiyo said gently. “But let it be said that you have my respect, and should you ever find yourself in need of my assistance, I would be pleased to oblige.” He extended his hand.

            “That ... means a lot, Kiyo,” Shuichi said, returning the smile with one of his own and taking his hand. “Thanks.”

            His brain short-circuited the moment Kiyo’s fist connected with his stomach.

            Shuichi dropped to his knees, coughing, surprised at just how much that _hurt._ He shook his head to clear it as adrenaline battered his mind, screaming _danger_.

            _That felt like ... like he actually wanted to hurt me._

            The dots finally connected and he snapped his head up, scanning the room for—

            Too late. Something circled around his throat from behind, yanking his head back, rough and scratchy and too _tight_ —

            “Goodbye, Shuichi Saihara,” Kiyo’s voice hissed in his ear.

            _He’s killing me._

            Panic exploded in his head and his fingers clawed frantically at the rope. A horrible pressure mounted in his temples, and he couldn’t _breathe,_ and the one thought churning in his mind was that Kiyo was killing him, _Kiyo was killing him—_

            A wild, animal instinct for self-preservation kicked in and Shuichi thrashed against Kiyo’s hold, his lips forming cries for help that the air didn’t carry. He lurched backward, slamming his head against the other boy’s face and hearing Kiyo’s quiet grunt of pain as their balance shifted, toppling them both to the ground. The rope went slack long enough for Shuichi to gasp in a mouthful of air before Kiyo was in control again, twisting to force Shuichi to the ground and planting his knee between his shoulder blades.

            _No, no, NO!_ Shuichi’s head spun, his blood thundering through his skull, his entire chest on fire. He could do nothing but scrabble at the sting of the rope around his neck and watch the black at the edges of his vision close in. Terror. Agony. Writhing and choking and dying, dying, dying, all of it taking _too long—_

_“Get away from him! I’ll scream!”_

            Blurred, black-spotted vision. He couldn’t recognize the voice past the cacophony of his pulse in his head, but he reached a hand toward it, a last desperate plea for help from someone, _anyone...._

_“Be silent and I will make your death quick.”_

            His consciousness reached its limit, the last spark of panic blacking out his thoughts. Silence, numbness. Despair.

            The last thing he heard was someone screaming.

            Nothing.

 

             He probably should have expected this, Kokichi realized the moment his mind processed the scene before him. In fact, he probably should have expected a lot of things about Kiyo—potential for committing murder foremost among those.

            He probably should have run when he had the chance, too. The class trial would have lasted a grand total of five minutes if he’d reported that he’d actually witnessed the killing. Assuming anyone believed a word he said, of course.

            Yes, he should have gotten out of there before Kiyo looked up and locked eyes with him, froze him in place with a glare, muttered a curse that could hardly be heard above the sound of Shuichi’s frantic struggling.

            If he’d made a run for it even then, he _might_ have made it back to the dorms in time to pound on someone’s door and wake them up. Maybe he could have appealed to Rantaro’s big brother instincts. Maybe Miss Assassin would have choked someone else out for a change.

            But no, like an idiot—like an _absolute idiot—_ he had to go and run his mouth instead.

            Either way, Kokichi reflected as he let out the loudest scream he could manage, as Kiyo shot toward him like a striking snake, as he slammed him up against the wall, hissing through his mask that the things _he_ would do to him would make Maki’s strangulation attempts look like love bites—

            Either way, if he left enough scratches on Kiyo’s face, there’s no way the others would get the verdict wrong, right?

            Maybe?

            Ah, who was he kidding? The others didn’t stand a chance.

            _Sorry, detective. My fault._

            A blur of red flashed in Kokichi’s peripheral vision and something seared across his neck. His first thought was that Kiyo had slit his throat—but the fact that he could breathe now meant....

            Kokichi crumpled to the ground against the wall, lungs heaving, feeling at the warm and dripping scores on his skin left from Kiyo’s fingernails. He glanced up dizzily and met Maki’s coal-red gaze as the assassin leveled a knife at his face.

            She had Kiyo pinned, too, pressing the tip of another blade just above his heart. “If either of you try anything, I’ll cut your eyes out,” she said icily.

            Kokichi barely heard her. “Sh-Shuichi,” he rasped. “Where...?”

            Maki tossed her head to indicate the room behind her, where Kaito was shaking the detective the way he probably shouldn’t shake an unconscious person. “Come on, man, come on, breathe, _breathe,_ wake up, _please....”_

            Shuichi convulsed, dragging in a gasp of air and immediately choking over it. Kaito hovered over him while he rolled onto his side and gagged.

            “Oh, geez—Breathe, Shuichi, just keep breathing, all right? It’s fine, you’re fine, you’re alive....”

            Kokichi tipped his head back against the wall and had to make a conscious effort to stifle the giddy laughter welling up inside him. _Talk about a last-minute save._ That had to have been the ... third time he’d almost died since this game started? He hadn’t imagined he’d ever be happy to see these two idiots, but as the adrenaline surging through his veins died down and left him weak and shaking, he heard himself croak out a “Thanks, Maki Roll.”

            Maki’s face twitched, but Kiyo spoke up before she could retaliate. “I am grateful for your assistance,” he said. “I advise you to dispatch that cretin before he tries to kill someone else.”

            Kokichi felt a chill but forced a pained laugh. “Seriously, Kiyo? You know that’s not going to work, right?”

            “No one will believe your lies,” Kiyo replied coldly. “If I hadn’t saved Shuichi when I did—”

            “Oh, so you had a rope around his neck to _save_ him, then—”

            “Shut up,” Maki ordered. “Both of you. I’m sure Shuichi will tell me whose skin I need to peel off.”

            Behind her, the detective raised his head, leaning on Kaito’s shoulder as he shifted into a kneeling position. The Ultimate Astronaut’s mouth was pressed into a grim frown. “Who tried to kill you, Shuichi?”

            “K-K-K....” It took him several tries to choke out, _“Kiyo.”_

 

            The combined brute strength of Maki and Kaito proved barely enough to restrain the wildly flailing anthropologist, and even after they had tied his hands behind his back and his arms to his sides, he continued to snarl curses and threats, looking for all the world as if _he_ was the victim. Kaito had wondered aloud where they could put him, breathing heavily as he held Kiyo’s head against the floor, and Maki, considerably less out of breath, had suggested “In a grave” with such a razor edge to her voice that everyone in the room shivered. “I’m kidding,” she finally deadpanned, earning an uneasy laugh from Kaito.

            “The classroom by the dorms is fine,” Maki said. “You should go make sure the others know about this.”

            “Are you sure you can handle him by yourself?” Kaito frowned. “Maybe you should stay here with Shuichi? If Kiyo attacks you….”

            He trailed off when Maki glowered at him. “Do you want to die?”

            “Well—well, someone should wake everyone else up—”

            “So go wake them up.”

            “But—but Shuichi—”

            Kokichi interrupted with an exaggerated sigh. “Fiiine, if you’re going to be that pushy, I’ll stay back and make sure nobody takes Shuichi’s kidneys while you’re gone. You’re okay with that, right?” he added over his shoulder to the detective.

            And that was how Shuichi ended up sitting quietly against the wall, Kaito’s jacket draped over his shoulders (“They do it on crime shows when people go into shock,” the astronaut had insisted) and the Ultimate Supreme Leader at his side. Kokichi’s violet gaze focused anywhere but Shuichi’s face; the two of them stole the occasional glance at one another but otherwise remained awkwardly wordless.

            At least, until Kokichi cleared his throat with a hesitant, “So are you feeling okay or what?”

            “It hurts to breathe,” Shuichi admitted with a grimace.

            “Try putting your head back, like this,” Kokichi said, raising his chin. “Opens your airways.”

            Shuichi obeyed, surprised at how much of a difference that made. “I guess you would know better than I would.”

            “Yeah, the whole ‘Supreme Leader’ thing is just a cover for my real talent,” Kokichi said. “Ultimate Asphyxiation Kink.”

            Shuichi smirked. “That’s a lie.”

            “Mm-hmm.”

            The small talk broke the tension and the silence that resumed felt more companionable, which Shuichi found oddly refreshing. Usually, at this point, Kokichi would be talking his ear off, making his head spin with his ridiculously intricate tangle of lies or suggesting death-defying games with an expression that made it impossible to tell whether he was serious. He’d already threatened to kill Shuichi the first afternoon he’d spent with him, though he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to actually do so. Trying to read the thoughts twisting through the other boy’s head was like trying to catch smoke in his hands, Shuichi decided.

            Tonight, though, it seemed as if Kokichi’s usual mischievous and insincere facade had cracked, as if he was fighting to rebuild his walls before anyone saw what he hid behind them. Maybe—Shuichi hesitated to get his hopes up—maybe he could catch a glimpse.

            He took a deep breath. “Hey, Kokichi?”

            “What’s up?”

            _Why did you help me? Why didn’t you just run? What was really going through your head? Why, why, why...._  Too many questions clamored for his attention, and he hesitated long enough that Kokichi turned toward him with his eyebrows raised in a silent question of his own.

            Shuichi exhaled and met his gaze, opting for a simple “Thank you. Really.”

            Kokichi’s expression remained carefully neutral. He nodded almost imperceptibly and returned his attention to the cracks in the floor. “We got lucky.”

            “Well … yeah,” Shuichi allowed. “But if you hadn’t done anything—”

_“Geez,_ Shuichi, you’re thinking so hard about this.” Kokichi hugged his legs tighter and rested his chin on his knees. “After you beat an area boss, do you replay the level to see how many ways you can lose?”

            “Of—of course I don’t,” Shuichi said. “I don’t even play video games.”

            “Of course you don’t,” Kokichi huffed. “Remind me to introduce you to Phoenix Wright as soon as we get out of here.”

            “Phoenix who?”

            “Never mind.” He tugged moodily on a tuft of grass sprouting near the wall. “What I’m trying to say is that there are more important things to worry about than something that didn’t happen. Playing the sentiment game isn’t going to do you any favors.”

            “Isn’t all of this a game to you, though?”

            Kokichi scoffed. “Games are supposed to be _fun_. And when you think about it, dying is one of the most boring things a person can do. Especially if Shuichi’s the one doing it.” He folded his arms on his knees again. “So just try to not die in the future, okay?”

            “I usually make it a point to....” Shuichi trailed off. “My death would be boring? Is that … another lie?”

            “Hmm, who knows?” Kokichi rolled his head back to give Shuichi a sidelong glance, still with that strange soft expression. “Do you think I’m lying, Mr. Detective?”

_“They’re in here?”_

            _“Yeah, this is it."_

            Kokichi’s eyes flicked toward the door and Shuichi _saw_ the mask snap back onto his face, all traces of sincerity and honesty vanishing. “Mom!” he cheered, practically leaping to his feet. “Whoops, I mean Kirumi! And you brought big brother Rantaro, too? Yay! I like him _way_ better than Kaito!”

            “Say that to my face, you little punk,” Kaito grumbled, but it seemed more like a reflex than a threat.

            “All right, that’s enough from you two,” Rantaro said with a smile, helping Shuichi to his feet. “How are you holding up, Shuichi?”

            “Ah, well, I’m not dead, so....”

            “Please, allow me to examine you for injuries,” Kirumi said. “While I am no doctor, I am aware of standard treatment procedures in emergency situations such as this and will serve you to the best of my ability.”

            “Thanks, Kirumi.” Shuichi leaned against one of the desks. “Sorry to wake you two up.”

            “It’s no big deal. We’re just glad Kaito and Maki got to you in time,” Rantaro said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Who would’ve thought the Ultimate Assassin and Ultimate Astronaut make such a great team?”

            “Well, of course!” Kaito gave them a thumbs-up. “What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t look after my sidekicks?”

            “You two were great,” Shuichi agreed, his eyes following the white-clad figure inching otherwise undetected toward the door. “But, he’s the one you should really be thanking.”

            Kokichi shot him a look of mingled confusion and surprise.

            “Kokichi was the one who found us after Kiyo attacked me,” Shuichi explained as the other boy’s face slowly drained of emotion for the second time that night in favor of what Shuichi had begun to recognize as his thinking expression. “If he hadn’t called for help, I’d be dead.”

            Three heads turned to stare at Kokichi, as if seeing him— _really_ seeing him—for the first time. The Supreme Leader tugged at a lock of his hair, suddenly seeming uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the attention, then flashed a smile and laced his fingers behind his head. “Man, you guys are so cheesy,” he laughed, striding toward the exit. “Even sleeping would be less boring than this, so I’m going to go do that. Nobody die before breakfast, m’kay?”

            “Whoa, hold up a second,” Kaito called out. “There's something I don't get. Shuichi’s right. We wouldn’t have gotten there in time if you hadn’t screamed like that. But, how’d you know we were anywhere nearby in the first place?”

            Kokichi slowed to a stop, lowering his hands to his sides. He seemed to mull over the words for a moment, clearly not a feeling he was familiar with, but when he turned around, his grin shone the same as ever. _“Nishishi._ Didn’t I tell you, Kaito?” he said slyly. “It’s ‘cause I’m a spirit medium.”

            Kaito recoiled immediately. “You’re a—? Don’t—don’t be stupid!” he yelped. “There’s no such thing as spirits!”

            “But it’s true,” Kokichi said. “Angie’s and Ryoma’s ghosts popped out of nowhere and started whispering to me—”

            “Stop it!”

            “They said they’d come visit you, too.”

            “Don’t screw around!” Kaito clapped his hands over his ears, shaking his head violently. “I’m not listening to you! Ghosts aren’t real!”

            Kokichi put a finger to his chin. “Hmm? Then what’s that thing behind you?”

            Kaito actually _squeaked_ at that, spinning around so quickly that he nearly lost his balance. Kokichi just tossed him another laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! This one ended up being a lot longer than I thought it was going to be, and also took like two months longer to write than I'd planned, but I'm really happy with how it turned out.  
> Comments and constructive criticism are welcome and appreciated!


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